for a moment
by shelivesfree
Summary: And, just for a moment, all the worries and concerns that troubled the young couple cease to exist. Fade away to just this. Husband and wife. Asleep. Dreaming of the sweet little life they will soon bring into the world and into their hearts. Set somewhere in ROTS.
**Author's Note:** Just a short little vignette/one-shot in which Anakin is so excited about being a father. Cuteness ensues. Written for a friend who enjoys happy endings.

* * *

He is late.

Anakin was meant to be home three hours ago, but the debrief at the temple had taken far longer than he'd anticipated. As he quickly hops on his speeder and makes his way towards the Senate building, wherein lies his wife's apartment, he can't help but grimace. Padmé is _not_ going to be impressed.

Unfortunately for Anakin, he has a track record for being tardy. His wife has expressed her frustration at that one _particular_ habit of his more times than he can count over the three years that they've been married. Of course, it hasn't always been his fault. But considering he is often separated from his beloved wife for months at a time, it only adds strain to their relationship when Anakin is forced to stay back late and miss his secret rendezvous' with Padmé as a result.

Though slightly afraid of his wife's wrath - for such a tiny little thing, she is feisty and stubborn and can be downright _frightening_ when angry, a part of him thrills at the thought of having to _placate_ her. There is only one way Anakin knows how to calm Padmé down when she is angry at him and it is a skill that he has mastered to absolute perfection over the years. He knows exactly which buttons to press, exactly which touches cause Padmé to shudder, exactly what words cause her to _melt_ in his arms. And he wields this power with as much skill and pride as he does his own lightsaber.

Perhaps it is the constant separation, but the fire between Anakin and Padmé still burns as hotly as it has since their wedding day. Or, perhaps it is their deep love for each other, that keeps their lust simmering underneath each small touch, each gentle caress. Either way, Anakin wouldn't trade it for anything. A moment alone with his wife, no matter how small, is enough to keep him focused and alive for weeks on end. Just the memory of her breathtaking smile, the feel of her smooth, dainty hands trailing up his arms and down his back, the softness of her lips against his cheek... His entire body tingles with anticipation.

It is deathly quiet throughout the entire Senate building as Anakin pulls his speeder up outside Padmé's apartment, but he doesn't mind at all. The less people who spot him, the better. Rumours have already circulated about Senator Amidala's mysterious lover, with the HoloNews posting obscure, blurry photos of a hooded man approaching her quarters at night. Padmé, of course, is horrified by the accusations, but Anakin merely finds them amusing. " _Let them think what they want, Angel,_ " he would tell her time and time again. " _Only we know the truth."_

Still, even Anakin can't deny the anger and jealousy that filled him when the HoloNews began suggesting names and faces of his wife's lover; everyone from Bail Organa to Obi-Wan Kenobi, which was a raw blow to Anakin's ego. He _knows_ he has nothing to fear from his former Master, but he also knows how _fond_ his wife is of Obi-Wan, and for some reason, it is _that_ ridiculous suggestion that hurts him the most. _She's mine,_ he'd often want to shout from the balcony of her apartment, for all of Coruscant to hear. But he can't. They have to keep their marriage a secret - which is becoming more and more difficult to do now that Padmé is _definitely_ showing. Even her largest gown fails to cover her pregnancy, and so she'd had to announce it whilst keeping the father a secret. Again, the rumour mill went into complete chaos, and his poor wife had been the subject of much gossip for weeks on end. And, again, the HoloNews had decided to guess the father, with many ridiculous and painful suggestions.

It makes Anakin shake with jealous rage at the thought of his _child_ being the source of such gossip. His unborn child is the greatest gift in the entire galaxy, and to have all this speculation about her (or his, but Anakin is certain his child was a _she_ ) parentage is enough to make Anakin want to declare it in front of the entire Senate. _Mine. They're both mine!_

He steps through the open window on the balcony, shaking his head at his wife's stubborn nature. _How_ many times has he requested she keep it shut for her own safety? And the safety of the baby? Yet, she keeps it open anyway, for _him,_ so that he can visit her without anyone knowing, and despite how much he disproves, it brings a smirk to his lips anyway.

As he steps through the window, he is greeted by C3PO. "Master Ani," the droid titters, hurrying towards him. "You are dreadfully late."

"Nice to see you too, Threepio," Anakin drawls, rolling his eyes. "Is Padmé awake?"

The droid shakes its head. "I'm afraid Mistress Padmé has gone to bed. She was quite distressed when you didn't show up for dinner."

A pang of guilt pierces Anakin in the heart as he gazes upon the dining table, which had been set for two, in readiness for their reunion. She'd prepared _dinner_ for the two of them, which is a rarity in itself. His wife, though skilled in many arts, is definitely not fond of cooking, and normally would get Threepio, or even Anakin himself, to fetch something for the two of them to eat. The fact that she'd actually taken the time to prepare a meal, given her current physical state, is almost heart-breaking. He feels wretched.

By the Force, he's going to have to do some _serious_ apologising.

"Right," he nods solemnly, raking a hand through his tangled, blond curls. "Well, goodnight, Threepio. You can power down now."

The droid hums in response and heads off into the other room, whilst Anakin makes his way into the bedroom. Silver moonlight spills in through the thin curtains, illuminating the figure curled up on the bed. Although disappointed that he wasn't able to greet her whilst awake, a small smile plays across his lips at the sight of his beautiful wife asleep. Her soft form facing away from him, one arm pillowed under her head, the other curved protectively around her stomach; nothing can compare to the beauty of Padmé, round with _his_ child.

 _His._

It still takes Anakin by surprise that he is going to be a father. How had he been so lucky? It is miracle enough that he had married Padmé, his one and only love, but now she is about to bring their _child_ into the world. He is going to have a family. A family wasn't something Anakin had ever even thought _possible._ Even when his mother had still be alive, he'd never known his father. Then, he'd become a Jedi, the only family he'd truly known. But it isn't the same. It isn't like _this._ The thought of his family, the family he would have with Padmé, makes him grin, all giddy and hopefully, and he steps up beside the bed, kneeling on the ground and runs his mechanical hand through his wife's brown curls that fan out around her head.

At his touch, her eyelids flutter and she releases an adorable little whimper. Eventually, her gorgeous brown eyes flicker open, blinking up Anakin all sleepy and soft. "Ani?" she mutters through a large yawn that makes her mouth widen almost comically before smacking her lips back together.

Chuckling softly, Anakin bends and brushes his lips softly between her brows in a sweet kiss. "I'm sorry I missed dinner, Angel," he whispers, sincerely.

At his remark, she merely smiles at him, a soft, sleepy smile that completely _melts_ him. Yes, there really is _nothing_ that can compare to Padmé in moments like this. It only makes him ache with love for her. "You're here now," she tells him, covering his hand which has trailed down to cup her cheek. "That's all that matters."

Anakin seals her lips with his, kissing her tenderly, revelling in the feel of her soft, sweet mouth against his after so long apart. _This_ he would never take for granted. He could be sent back into the field at any moment, so they have to make the most of every single moment they spent together, and Anakin doesn't take such pressure lightly. If he could spend his life attached to his wife's lips, he would. She is the only light in his life, the glue that holds him together when he thinks that everything will fall apart.

Padmé breaks the kiss to yawn and rubs her eyes groggily. "Are you coming to bed?" she asks, almost imploringly.

Shaking his head, Anakin tenderly smooths the back of his knuckles over her cheek, before trailing his hand down to rest on her swollen belly. Wherein lies his child _._ _Their_ child. "I need a shower," he informs her as he strokes loving circles over her stomach. "Go back to sleep, Angel. You need to rest." Pressing another quick kiss to his wife's lips, Anakin rises and kicks off his boots, before heading into the 'fresher. He feels her eyes on his retreating form, and when he turns around, half in the doorway, he smiles when he sees her watching him, now rolled over onto her back and smiling at him with sleepy brown eyes.

"Don't be too long, Ani," she begs, a seductive lilt to her voice, but from the way she is once again overpowered by a massive yawn, Anakin suspects she'll be fast asleep when he finishes his shower.

He is proven correct, for when he returns from the fresher in nothing but a fresh towel wrapped loosely around his waist, he is greeted with the sight of Padmé slumbering peacefully in the middle of their bed. Now on her back, one arm was lazily stretched up above her head, buried underneath a tangle of chestnut curls, and the other curved around her belly. It always makes Anakin smile to see his wife like that, her hand always coming up to rest on her belly, as though she is trying to protect their child from all the evils the universe has to offer. It is sweet and instinctual and makes him absolutely certain that his beloved wife will be a perfect mother.

Deciding to let her rest, for he knows how much this pregnancy is exhausting her, Anakin pulls on a pair of sleep pants and deftly slides into bed beside her, taking care not to wake her. Instead of falling asleep himself, he is content with watching her, the way her eyes flutters behind her closed lids as she dreams, the way her chest rises and falls elegantly with each breath, the cute little flare of her nostrils. His gaze trails lower, landing on her belly and he reaches out, taking the swell in his hand. His _child_ is there, growing steadily beneath his hand and once again, Anakin is struck by the sheer wonder that was his wife's body. Inside her, she is harbouring their child, giving it life and nourishment and letting it grow, and it catches Anakin off guard every time. She, _Padmé,_ his _wife_ is the single most amazing person in the entire galaxy.

Reaching out through the Force, Anakin nudges the little tendril of consciousness that is his child. It fills him with the greatest sense of joy each time he feels his child, that little bubble of energy that is so pure and light and unlike anything else in the galaxy. It's a unique connection, being able to listen and _feel_ his child, communicate with it, in a sense, and although he knows that Padmé is often a little jealous that he can do this, Anakin feels a great sense of pride. He knows the bond between mother and child is powerful, and something he will never experience, but _this..._ he can experience this. It is truly _magical._

Anakin pulls back the covers, flicking his eyes up to Padmé's face to make sure she's still asleep, before he slowly lifts her nightgown, so that it bunches up underneath her heaving breasts. He wants to feel his child with as little interference as possible, just skin to skin. "Hey, little one," he whispers reverently. "Are you asleep too, like your mother?"

At his words, the baby kicks and a little imprint is left on Padmé's belly. It's so fleeting that Anakin swears it's just a trick of the light, that he's imagining things. Padmé has often told him about how the baby kicks and how it can be painful sometimes, but he's never witnessed it. Just to be sure, he shuffles lower on the bed, lips inches above his wife's pregnant belly, and whispers, "Can you hear me, little one?"

This time, the movement it far larger and Anakin doesn't miss the way a fist (he swears it's a fist) breaks the smooth curvature with a tiny little indent. A soft, bewildered laugh bubbles out of him as he watches with wide eyes. His baby can _hear_ him? The knowledge makes him swell with joy. He reaches out with the Force again, and feels that little consciousness entwine with his own. There's acknowledgement there. Not only can his baby hear his, but it _knows_ who he is.

"You... you can hear me? You know who I am?" he asks, completely besotted and transfixed by this strange, yet wonderful, connection he has with his unborn child. It thrills him like nothing else.

A quiver in the Force, much like a nod, washes over him and once again, the baby kicks (or punches) Padmé's belly.

Grinning widely, Anakin runs his fingers gently over the spot, as though he is somehow touching his child. He wonders what she looks like, all cooped up in there… whether she has developed fingernails, how big her hands and feet are, the shape of her nose. He knows that she'll look exactly like her mother, large brown eyes and gorgeous brown hair. He is certain. Padmé has often disagreed, insisting that they'll have a happy little boy with blond hair and blue eyes, just like him. It's an argument they've been having for weeks, ever since Padmé told him of her pregnancy, and whilst they can never agree, they both know the gender of their baby doesn't matter. It's never mattered, because he already loves this happy little bubble of life more than anything, but Anakin likes to prove Padmé wrong, and Force knows how competitive she is in her own right.

"You're so smart already," Anakin praises his baby affectionately, tracing mindless patterns over the spot. "Just like your mother." Baby responds with a little nudge against his conscious and Anakin doubts he'll ever get used to such a wonderful intrusion. The baby is strong with the Force already, and hasn't even been born yet. The realisation, though it fills Anakin with pride, makes him infinitely worried. He _knows_ what happens to Force users. They are taken away from their families at birth and raised at the Temple, becoming Younglings, and then Padawans to Jedi Knights and Masters. And, although it is a noble life to lead, Anakin can't _bear_ the thought of the Order taking his child away.

Family is something sacred to him. He will _not_ let anything separate him from his family. He swears it on his life and honour as a Jedi. When the time comes for Padmé to give birth, he will do everything in his power to shield his child from the Order, mask the strong Force signature. His family is his life. Padmé and his child are everything to him, and if he must leave the Order to protect them, to keep them safe, then he will do it. Of course, he never says such things around his wife, for he knows it upsets her when he talks about _throwing away his life_ , as she calls it. Little does she understand that Anakin's life would account for nothing without _her_ , and now their baby. But the idea is always there, in the back of his mind, presiding over his every waking moment.

"I'll never let anything happen to you, little one," he whispers fiercely. "I will guard you with my life. I swear it." Bending low, he brushes his lips against his wife's belly, kissing the smooth, firm flesh tenderly, all the while sending his love and devotion to his child through the Force. "You are the greatest gift in the entire galaxy and I love you so much." Tears prick his eyes as he says the words, suddenly overcome with such steadfast emotion. Already he feels an unbreakable attachment to his unborn child.

Once again, the baby kicks, but it is stronger than any of the others. This time, Anakin can clearly make out a little foot indenting his wife's stomach and he watches it in complete awe. It's amazing. His baby is amazing and he wouldn't trade this, this moment, for anything in the world.

A little moan pierces the still night and Anakin flicks his gaze up to see his wife stirring, eyes blinking open slowly to fix on him. Her hand trails down lower, touching her fingertips to his. "Mmm," she sighs, a pout forming on her lips. "Ani, stop making the baby kick," she tells him sleepily. "It hurts, you know."

Grinning, Anakin moves up his wife's body to capture her lips in a kiss, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth with such passion that it knocks the breath out of her. He holds himself up on his elbows so as not to press against her in her state, lets his hands caress her cheeks with complete adoration. When he pulls back, he can't keep the smile off his face. "Sorry, Angel," he says, pecking her lips once more. "It's just… she can _hear me_!" he exclaims in awed astonishment, his voice trailing off into a dazed laugh, as though he can't truly believe it.

Padmé smiles sweetly at him, letting her hands trail through his hair before stroking the line of his jaw. "I know, Ani. He's a smart little boy."

He smirked, eyes twinkling. " _She_ is, you mean," he teases, and his wife rolls his eyes at his correction.

"Are we really going to have this argument now?" she lifts an eyebrow at him.

Laughing, he bends his forehead so it's pressed against hers, never taking his eyes off of hers. She's so beautiful, especially like this, in that stage between sleep and awake, that he can't _not_ drink her in. She's like the very air he needs to breathe. "Not _now_ , no," he returns cheekily, nuzzling his nose against hers before capturing her lips once again.

"You're insufferable," she smirks at him.

Anakin shrugs nonchalantly and flops down beside her, looping his arm around her and pulling her into his side. "You married me," he remind her with a teasing grin.

"Mmmm, yes I did," she nuzzles into his bare chest, seeking the warmth and comfort he provides and Anakin relishes in the feel of her soft form pressed against him. Her lips pucker against the skin between his neck and shoulder and smiles happily as she dusts a line of kisses there, before trailing up towards his ear. "And I don't regret it one bit," she tells him affectionately.

The words thrill him, as they always do. He will never stop being amazed at how lucky he is that she married him. Anakin Skywalker, truly, is the luckiest man in the entire galaxy.

"I'm so happy, Ani," Padmé confesses softly in his ear. She pulls back to gaze upon his face and he notices how her brown eyes are shimmering in the moonlight, moist with her joy. The sight brings tears to his own eyes. "I love you so much, and I love our baby so much and I – " her voice breaks off as tears slide down her cheeks and Anakin traps them with his thumb, brushing them away tenderly. "I can't wait to have our own little family."

Anakin strokes her cheek, unable to put into words exactly _how much_ he loves her. Padmé Naberrie Amidala Skywalker is his wife, true, but she is more than that to him. She is his entire life-force, his will to live, the sole guardian of his heart, body and soul. But now there is a new life laying claim to him, the little bundle of light that grows within her and Anakin gladly shares himself with it, ready to pour all the love he has onto his child more than anything.

"Neither can I, Angel," he echoes her proclamation and kisses her lips sweetly one last time before she tucks into his side. Their hands entwine over her belly as they drift off to sleep, and when Anakin feels the slightest little kick against his palm, he smirks.

And, just for a moment, all the worries and concerns that troubled the young couple cease to exist. Fade away to just this. Husband and wife. Asleep. Dreaming of the sweet little life they will soon bring into the world and into their hearts.


End file.
